Accountability
by sasha1600
Summary: Gibbs and Tony need to have a little chat about evidence. Warning: spanking of adults. Don’t like? Don’t read!
1. Chapter 1

**Accountability**

**Summary:** Gibbs and Tony need to have a little chat about evidence. **Warning:** spanking of adults. Don't like? Don't read!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, I just play with them.

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A/N: This is part of my 'Lessons' series and builds on a larger plot arc. The story here should make sense on its own, though.

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**Warning: This story contains the disciplinary spanking of adults. If you have a problem with that, click on that 'back' button now. You've been warned.**

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'...so there's nothing to suggest that Sgt. Cooper didn't kill his wife and then shoot himself, and with the PTSD diagnosis, that's not totally out of the question. I'm still running that fingerprint we couldn't identify, but I don't think it's going to change anything. It was on a coffee table, after all, so it's probably just a neighbour that Mrs. Cooper had over for, you know... coffee.'

Abby finally ran out of breath, and Gibbs was able to ask the question that he'd called down to the lab about in the first place.

'And those symbols on the bathroom wall – what did they mean?'

'Uh... what symbols?'

'In those photos that DiNozzo brought down to you...'

'Tony didn't bring me any photos...'

'Are you sure?'

'_Of course_ I'm sure! I'd remember if Tony brought me photos. Especially if there were weird unidentified mystery symbols in any of them!'

'Ok.'

As usual, Gibbs hung up without saying goodbye.

'DiNozzo!'

'Yeah, Boss?'

'I thought I told you to get those photos down to Abby?'

'I did, Boss!'

'She just told me you _didn't_!'

'What? I mean, I didn't bring them down _personally_ – Jardine was going anyway, with those evidence bags this morning, so I just gave the memory stick to her to bring down...'

Tony trailed off as Gibbs turned around, seeking out the woman in question. With Tim away visiting his parents, Nikki Jardine was temporarily assigned to Gibbs's team, getting some field experience that Acting Director Vance thought that she needed. Gibbs wasn't sure what had happened between her and DiNozzo in Iraq, but there was definitely some unexplained tension between those two.

Not seeing her at the desk she'd been using, Gibbs sighed and sat back to wait for her to get back from what was probably yet another hand-washing foray into the ladies' room. A few minutes later, she finally appeared.

'Jardine!'

'Yes, Sir?'

Gibbs glared at her, annoyed that he still hadn't completely broken her of that habit.

'Did you bring a memory card with the crime scene photos down to Abby this morning?'

'No, Sir. I didn't take any photos...'

'Boss, I...'

Gibbs silenced Tony with a glare.

'DiNozzo didn't ask you to bring it with you, when you dropped off the box of evidence?'

She glanced quickly at Tony but her eyes were steady on Gibbs when she answered firmly, 'No Sir.'

'What? Jardine! What the hell? Boss, I swear...'

Gibbs glared at her for a long moment, but she didn't waiver. Finally, he dismissed her with an abrupt jerk of his head. She calmly returned to her desk and started typing at her computer, presumably working on her report.

His eyes narrowed dangerously, Gibbs walked slowly over to his senior agent's desk. Tony was looking up at him frantically. He squawked slightly in protest when Gibbs hauled open his desk drawers and flicked casually through the detritus collected there. By the time he started checking under the disorderly piles of paper that littered the surface of his desk, he was merely glaring mutinously. Gibbs ignored his displeasure and rolled him effortlessly out of his way as he worked his way across the untidy desk. Finally lifting up the keyboard, he revealed a small gadget underneath it, sheltered by the short legs of the keyboard and seemingly unharmed.

Gibbs glared over his shoulder, his blue eyes icy.

'Conference room! NOW!'


	2. Chapter 2

Gibbs stepped into the conference room, not looking forward to what he had to do.

'Boss, I'm telling you, I _gave her_ that memory card!'

'Then what was it doing on your desk, DiNozzo?!'

'I _don't know_!'

'And why wasn't it in an evidence bag? Christ, Tony, I shouldn't have to remind you about preserving the chain of evidence! You've been doing this long enough....'

'It _was_! When I gave it to Nikki, it was _in_ an evidence bag, signed, sealed, everything! I even made her sign off on taking custody of it – followed procedures by the book, teaching the newbie and all...'

'Then what the hell happened?!'

'I told you, I don't know! She must have put it there...'

'And why on earth would she do something like that, Tony?'

'I don't know... maybe she...'

'Enough! Ok, Tony? Enough.'

'You don't believe me, do you? C'mon, Boss...'

'Last chance to come clean, Tony.'

'I didn't _do_ it!'

Gibbs sighed, gesturing towards the table with the strap he held in his hand. Tony stopped protesting, and wordlessly put himself into position, his hands gripping the edge of the table and his face turned away.

Gibbs brought the strap down hard on Tony's ass and watched his hands clench furiously against the smooth wood. The next stroke made his shoulders twitch, and he heard a muffled gasp. Again and again he strapped him, surprised that he wasn't crying out in pain. His breath sounded ragged, and his knuckles were white, but he seemed determined to take the spanking silently. Gibbs looked at him curiously as he continued raining lash after lash down on the younger man. It wasn't like Tony to maintain a quiet stoicism. There was no question that he was in pain; Gibbs knew from his own experience that a whipping hurt, no matter how determined he was to get through it without making a sound. But Tony had never held back his shouts and sobs so resolutely before.

Gibbs delivered a final stroke and tossed the strap lightly onto the table. Tony immediately pushed himself upright and turned towards the door. Gibbs could see that his face was wet with tears.

'Tony...'

'Can I go now?' he asked, his voice emotionless despite its slightly breathless quality.

Gibbs just nodded and watched, unaccountably troubled, as the man he thought of as a son walked painfully from the room without a backwards glance.


	3. Chapter 3

'Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!'

Gibbs looked up as Abby bounced frantically towards him. He'd long since sent his team home. There was no mystery to solve, no killer to catch. The paperwork and loose ends about the obvious murder-suicide could wait; there was no need to work through the night on this one.

'Why haven't you gone home, Abbs?'

'Why haven't you?'

'Ah, you know me, Abby...'

'Yeah, you have no life and work late for no reason. I know. But I have a _reason_ for being here...'

'Care to share? Or do I have to guess?'

'I was working on something for Agent Sato, on that crank call thing?'

Gibbs nodded. Someone had been leaving messages on Acting Director Vance's voicemail, in Morse code so there was no voice to ID, always traced, eventually, to a desk inside the building, and always sent at a time when the rightful occupant was nowhere nearby. Since the internal security cameras were undergoing a refit and there were huge gaps in the coverage, tracking down the culprit was proving more difficult than anyone expected, and Vance was going through toothpicks at a rate that had Gibbs seriously considering investing in company that made the things, trying to curb his impatience. Poor Chrissy Sato had drawn the short straw – literally – and gotten stuck trying to deal with the mess.

'Anyway, I was going through the footage on the cameras that are working... I didn't find anyone borrowing a phone they shouldn't have been using, but I did find... uh... this.'

She leaned over his desk and slotted a memory card into position. Her fingers flew over the keyboard – upside down, to his amazement. A few seconds later, the plasma screen sprang to life.

The slightly grainy black-and-white image clearly showed the team's area of the bullpen, deserted at the moment. Gibbs watched himself stride over to his desk, drop an empty coffee cup in the trash can, and retrieve a file folder before leaving again. A few seconds after his departure, Agent Jardine walked in from the direction of the elevators, glancing over her shoulder hesitantly. Watching, Gibbs's heart rate sped up. Apparently satisfied, she stepped over to Tony's desk, nudged his keyboard to one side, and pulled something out of her pocket. The angle of the camera didn't give them a clear shot of what happened next, but they did see her return the keyboard to its original position and reach towards her pocket again. Gibbs's stomach was churning as Abby paused the playback and zoomed in on Jardine's hand.

'That looks like a crumpled-up evidence bag to me, Gibbs...' she said, sounding apologetic.

'It is.'


	4. Chapter 4

Ducky looked up at the sound of the sliding doors swishing open, a bit surprised to see Gibbs striding purposefully through them.

'Jethro! To what do I owe this pleasure?'

As usual, Gibbs got straight to the point.

'I spanked DiNozzo today, Duck. For not documenting the chain of evidence properly, and lying about getting it to Abby when I told him to.'

Ducky put his pen down and turned his chair around.

'Well, I'm amazed that Tony would do something like that, but I can't say that I fault your response, Jethro. In fact...'

'He didn't do it. Abby just checked the security footage, and Jardine set him up.'

'Whatever for?!'

'No idea, Duck. Doesn't matter, really... I... I _spanked_ him, when he didn't deserve it...'

Gibbs trailed off, swallowing hard. Ducky looked at him sympathetically. He could see the pain his friend was feeling.

'Have you spoken to him yet? About...'

'No. I just saw the footage a minute ago.'

'You know you have to...'

'I know, Ducky. I just... can't... not right now.'

'Well, I think Tony needs to hear it _now_. The poor boy is no doubt devastated...'

'Dammit, Duck! You think I don't know that?'

'Well, then, what are you going to _do_ about it?'

Gibbs looked at him, grief and guilt apparent on his face.

'I screwed up, Ducky. I didn't believe him... I didn't trust him. He told me that he hadn't done it, and I basically told him I thought he was lying to me. And then I whipped him, when he hadn't done anything wrong. And... he took it. He didn't refuse, he didn't try to walk out, he didn't take a swing at me. He just... took it. Why would he do that, Ducky?'

He didn't know how to respond to the anguished question without adding to his friend's distress. Taking a deep breath, he dove in.

'Because that young man would do anything you asked of him, Jethro.'

Gibbs visibly flinched.

'I should have known something was wrong, Ducky. He was so quiet... Tony's never quiet. It was like... like he become someone else...'

Ducky hesitated. It sounded more as if Tony was responding to Gibbs as if _he_ were someone else... someone like his father, he suspected. But before he could decide whether to share that insight with Gibbs, his friend continued.

'I need you to do me a favour, Ducky,' he said quietly, his hands already moving to his belt.

The ME understood what he meant. He'd once asked for the same favour, needing help to assuage his own feelings of guilt. But the circumstances had been different, and he didn't think it was the right response in this case. Regretfully, he shook his head.

'It can't be that easy, Jethro. You're looking for absolution to make yourself feel better, but the role you've chosen to play in those young people's lives means that you have a responsibility to them, and if it's that easy for you to move on after failing in that responsibility, it will make you careless and, frankly, a menace to them. No, I'm afraid you're just going to have to live with this mistake.'

Gibbs looked at him in anguish, his hands hesitating, hovering uncertainly over his unfastened buckle.

'Ducky... please... I need...'

'I'm sorry. But I don't think it _is_ what you need.'

Gibbs took a slow deep breath and turned away, fumbling with the buckle, moving towards the door with none of his characteristic brusqueness. He looked... defeated, Ducky thought, watching him sadly.

He'd be impossible to work with, he knew, acting morose for days, and as irritable as a bear with a sore head.

And, he realised, he was unlikely to make the same mistake in the future... because it was unlikely that he would ever spank one of his agents again, no matter how irrefutable the offence, unless he could put this experience behind him.

'Jethro... wait.'

Gibbs unorthodox methods were more effective, he knew, at dissuading his agents from taking foolish risks that would endanger their lives than any official sanctions could be. And, although Jenny had sworn him to secrecy, he knew that a change in the Agency's command was inevitable in the near future; Gibbs's willingness to deal with misconduct off the record would perhaps soon be important to the safety of their jobs, as well.

'I may have been too hasty. It will do your team no favours if you are too guilt-ridden to _lead_ them...'

Gibbs turned and once again started unfastening his belt.

'Not so fast...'

'Dammit, Duck! Make up your mind!'

He almost laughed at the exasperation in Gibbs's voice, but the seriousness of the situation held him back.

'I _know_ you didn't use your belt with Tony. At least... I hope... Jethro, tell me you _didn't_...'

If Gibbs had broken his long-standing self-imposed prohibition against using a belt to discipline Tony, in circumstances where it was entirely unwarranted, it would take more than a spanking to break through the guilt the man would feel.

'No... I didn't. I... I won't...'

'Well, then, I shan't use your belt on _you_, either. Did you use that paddle that you had Tony make for you? I don't imagine he would mind _sharing_ it, under the circumstances...'

'No. I used the strap...'

'Well, then, it's only fitting that your penance takes the same form. Off you go.'

'Duck?'

'Go fetch the strap, so we can get this over with.'

Gibbs looked at him in disbelief for a long moment before turning and heading determinedly towards the elevator.


	5. Chapter 5

Gibbs reached into his desk drawer and for the second time in a day pulled out the heavy leather strap that he had inherited from Mike Franks. It had been years since he'd experienced it himself, but he remembered with vivid clarity what it felt like. Taking a deep breath, he slid it inside a file folder – _no reason for the entire agency to know what was happening_, he thought – and returned resolutely to Autopsy.

For all that he'd wanted this, for all that he knew he _needed_ this, he hesitated before handing the strap over to Ducky. He'd allowed his friend to whip him once before, more to appease the older man than from any feeling that he deserved the chastisement. He knew Ducky had a heavy hand and did not hesitate about delivering a hard spanking.

But what gave him pause wasn't a fear of pain. He wanted it to hurt, enough to drown out the agony he was feeling deep in his gut. When he'd come to Ducky, that was what he was seeking – punishment, to relieve the crushing weight of his own guilt, and pain, to even the score, in a way. But this whipping would carry an emotional significance that had been lacking on the previous occasion, and he was concerned about its effect on his relationship with the ME. Their friendship had survived the caning he had given Ducky, though, and it seemed arrogant to insist that their roles could not be reversed. And, ultimately, he had little choice, if he wanted a means to begin to cope with what he had done to Tony.

Gibbs took a deep breath and gave Ducky the strap.

'I think the desk would be the best place for this,' Ducky suggested, nodding at a space that he'd obviously cleared during his absence. Gibbs quietly complied, leaning over the battered surface and bracing himself.

To his surprise, he felt Ducky's hand come to rest on his back. He was about to protest, to insist that he didn't need to be restrained, but Ducky anticipated his objection. '_I_ am in charge now, Jethro,' he said sternly, keeping his hand firmly in place.

An interminably long time seemed to pass, and the wait was excruciating. Finally, without warning, the heavy leather strap landed hard against his ass. After a few seconds, the stroke was repeated. Gibbs closed his eyes and let the pain wash over him. _This is what Tony felt this afternoon_, he reminded himself. _This is what I did to him, for no reason. _The strap landed again, the pain building inexorably.

'I'm disappointed in you, Jethro.'

Ducky's statement was punctuated by a hard stroke that made his breath catch in his throat.

'You know better than to jump to conclusions about guilt and innocence, before examining all the evidence.'

Another lash made painful contact with his ass.

'And you bloody well _should_ know better than to think that Tony would _lie_ to you, in such circumstances!'

Another burst of pain.

'That boy thinks of you as a father.'

The strap connected again.

'You hurt him this afternoon, and I do not mean physically.'

And again.

'There is no question that he will recover from whatever _physical_ pain you inflicted. It is the _emotional_ pain that concerns me.'

And again.

'Thinking that you don't believe him, that you don't trust him, is likely to tear him apart, Jethro.'

And again.

'I don't care how you feel about apologies, you owe Tony one for your lack of confidence in him.'

And again.

'And you need to _talk_ to him about what happened today. You mean too much to each other to let this fester.'

And again.

'Don't you dare just walk away from this, Jethro... That boy has already had one father give up on him.'

And again.

'He needs you to fix this.'

And again.

'And you need to _tell_ him that you care about him. He can forgive a father who made a mistake, Jethro. He won't forgive one who puts his own stubborn pride before his son.'

The strap landed a final time, burning across the back of his thighs. Ducky removed his hand from his back and put the strap down on the desk. The stern, authoritative voice he'd been using was gone, his words gentle as he continued, 'Go talk to him, Jethro. He needs you.'

Gibbs staggered upright, his breath ragged. He was surprised to see his friend handing him a dampened paper towel. He hadn't realised that his eyes were damp, and that there were tears streaming down his face. His ass was blazing, but it was the sting of Ducky's words that he felt most acutely.

And his friend was right. It wasn't just the fact that he had unfairly spanked Tony that he needed to feel guilty about; he needed to address the emotional significance of his failure to believe him. And no amount of punishment was going to help, until he worked things out with his senior agent. The hard whipping had been very effective, however, at breaking through his Marine-hardened defences and making him see what he needed to do... which was clearly Ducky's intention.

He swallowed hard, wiping the cool wet towel over his face.

'I really screwed up this time, didn't I, Duck?'

'Yes, you did. Congratulations – you are not infallible. Now stop dwelling on what you did wrong, and go make it right.'

Gibbs drew in a slow, still-shaky breath and squared his shoulders. With a nod and a thank you, he made his way painfully towards the door.


	6. Chapter 6

_Bleep._

_Bleep._

_Bleep._

_Bleep._

_Alright! Alright! I'm coming!_

_Bleep._

_Who on earth is calling me now?!_

_Bleep._

_Oh, come on! You told me I could leave for the day! What can you possibly want now?_

'Hello? This is Nikki...'

...

'No, Sir. I already told you...'

...

'You did? Uh... I can...'

....

'No, Sir. I never meant...'

...

'My hands were full, so I put the memory stick in my sweater pocket, just to carry it, but then when I got to Abby's lab I... uh... forgot... that it was there. And then when I put my hand in my pocket later, I...'

...

'Well... I didn't want to go back there...'

...

'No, you don't understand, I _really_ didn't want to go back there. When I brought the evidence bags down, Abby... she... well, there's no easy way to say this... Abby _hugged_ me! I didn't say anything because I didn't want to get her into trouble, but it was really unprofessional of her, and...'

...

'I didn't know what else to do!'

...

'I was afraid that if I left it in the evidence bag, you'd know that _I_ was supposed to bring it down to Abby, and I didn't want...'

...

'I didn't think that chain of evidence was that important. I mean, it was obviously a suicide, it's not like there was ever going to be a trial where we'd need...'

...

'Yes, Sir.'

...

'Yes, Sir.'

...

'No, Sir.'

...

'I didn't think it would be a big deal. I knew Tony wouldn't get suspended over it or anything. When we were in Iraq, he told me that you usually deal with things like that off the record...'

...

'No, he didn't explain what he meant by that, but I assumed...'

...

'Actually, yes, I _did_ think that you'd make him run laps or something. My brother, he's a Marine, and...'

...

'What do you mean, I'm off your team?'

...

'But, Acting Director Vance said...'

...

'You can't do that, Agent Gibbs! I'm an NCIS agent, just like you, and you don't have the right to...'

...

'What do you mean...'

...

'Sea-Tac! But that's...'

...

'I don't think we have an office in...'

...

'Agent Gibbs, please...'

_He hung up on me!_


	7. Chapter 7

Gibbs knocked awkwardly on the door, wondering if Tony would let him in. He had a key, as he did to Tim's apartment, but he didn't want to use it in these circumstances. He heard footsteps behind the closed door, but it was a long, agonising moment before Tony slid open the lock.

'I'm sorry, Tony.'

For all their bluntness, the words were sincere. And they needed to be said, before any other words would be possible between the two men. And, if he was being honest with himself, he needed to say them, in case Tony didn't give him a chance to say more.

The younger man stared at him, obviously surprised that _Gibbs_ was _apologising_, his eyes dark with understandable anger. A deep sadness radiated from him almost palpably.

'Can I come in?'

Tony shot a pointed look at the burden Gibbs was carrying.

'You think you can just turn up with pizza and beer, and everything will be ok?'

'No. But I was hoping we could talk, maybe figure out a way to make it better. And that will probably take a while, so...'

Gibbs shrugged, the gesture made awkward by the boxes. For a moment he wasn't sure if Tony was going to slam the door in his face. And he wouldn't have blamed him, if he did. Then, finally, the younger man stepped back, wordlessly letting him pass. He waited while Tony locked the door, then followed him down the hall to the kitchen.

'I hope you don't mind if we just stand at the breakfast bar. My dining room chairs are a little _hard_,' Tony observed meaningfully. Gibbs didn't feel much inclined to sit down, either, but he merely nodded sheepishly.

He set the pizza on the counter and flipped open the lid, revealing Tony's favourite toppings – pepperoni, sausage and extra cheese – and watched Tony retrieve a bottle opener from a drawer and pop the top off of one of the bottles of beer before tossing it unceremoniously next to the six-pack. Gibbs opened a bottle for himself but, like Tony, left it untouched.

'I'm sorry.'

'You said that.'

'I meant it. I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I'm sorry I didn't trust you.'

'Yeah, well, my father never believed me when I said I didn't do something he thought I did, either. I don't know why I expected you to be any different.'

Tony's voice held a bitterness Gibbs had never heard before, and his words cut him like a knife. For a long moment he didn't, couldn't, reply, feeling helpless as he watched the younger man turn his face away from him and take a drink, then study his bottle intently.

'Tony...'

'What? You want me to say I forgive you? Well, I don't! Screwing up evidence? Like that? How could you think I'd do something so... so... And blaming Jardine, if it really was my fault? C'mon, Gibbs! You should know me better than that! I thought you _did_ know me better than that! So, no, I don't forgive you... how can I, when you so obviously don't trust me_!_'

'I do trust you, Tony. I trust you with my life, every day, in the field.'

'That's different, and you damn well know it. You might trust me as a cop, but you don't trust _me_. You didn't believe me when I told you that I didn't put that damn screensaver on my computer, until McGee admitted that it was him. You just assumed that I was responsible for that thing with the elevator, before you even knew what had really happened. And now... now you take the word of an germophobic whackjob that you've known for about two minutes, over me!'

Gibbs was stunned by the outburst. He hadn't realised that this had been building for so long, although, of course, the younger man was right. The knife in his gut twisted a little more, as he realised just how much he had failed Tony, and for how long.

'You're right. I should have believed you, and not just today. I guess I just...'

'You just _what_, Gibbs? Expect me to screw up? Think I'm just a frat-boy jock who can't be trusted?'

'I know that's not who you are, Tony. You pretend it is, but you don't fool me.'

'Well, apparently I _do_, because that's how you _treat _me.'

'No, Tony. I know that's not you. You think you'd still be on my team, if that were true? I come down on you so hard when you _act_ that way, because I know how much better than that you really are.'

'Then why didn't you _believe_ me?' Tony asked, the anger and bitterness from a moment ago melting into almost a whine.

'Because I'm an idiot.'

Tony snorted. Gibbs grinned wryly, relieved that his statement had managed to break at least some of the tension. Some of the anger melted visibly from Tony's shoulders; he looked more hurt than furious, now. Gibbs wasn't sure if that was progress. He took a drink from his beer, and felt encouraged when Tony mirrored the action.

'Seriously, Tony. I screwed up. I let you down. I know that. I can't change what happened. All I can do is tell you that, everything I've done, it was because I thought it was what was best for you. I was wrong. But I wasn't trying to hurt you.'

Another snort.

'News flash, Gibbs. That strap of yours? It freakin' _hurts_!'

Gibbs reached out his hand instinctively to deliver a headslap for the smartass comment, but let it fall awkwardly away without making contact. Even that mild reprimand seemed inappropriate, now.

'I know. I'm sorry about that, too.'

'So, is this where you let me take a strap to you, to make it even?'

'No, I don't think that would be a good experience for you to have, Tony.'

'Yeah, I figured as much...'

'That's why I had Ducky do it.'

'Of course you wouldn't... uh... whuh?'

'You heard me.'

'You... Ducky... seriously?'

'You wanna see the marks, DiNozzo?'

'No! That's ok...'

Tony played with his beer, obviously trying to wrap his head around the information.

'Why?'

'I screwed up.'

'Yeah, but...'

'And I needed it. I failed in a responsibility that I take very seriously. You trusted me, and I got it about as wrong as it was possible to. You think I don't feel guilty as hell about that?'

Tony looked at him, seemingly surprised by the idea that Gibbs had been so distressed about the day's events that he'd gone to such lengths in search of a remedy. They definitely still had a long way to go, but, for the first time, Gibbs thought there might be a chance of repairing his relationship with this man he thought of as a son.

Before Tony worked out how to respond, his stomach growled. Gibbs grinned, reaching for the pizza that had been neglected until now.

'What do you say we warm this thing up again?' he said, moving towards the oven.


	8. Chapter 8

Gibbs pushed the last slice towards Tony and reached for another beer. They were finally making some progress. The idea that Gibbs could feel so guilty about the day's events that he'd willingly endured a whipping had seemed to surprise Tony. Gibbs reflected sadly that he had probably never had anyone care enough about him to care about getting it right with him. They'd talked more than he had expected, the conversation lubricated somewhat by the alcohol. And as they'd talked, Tony's anger had slowly evaporated. He was still visibly upset, but his eyes were no longer burning with a dark and bitter fury, and he was no longer looking at him with the same painfully-evident level of distrust and betrayal.

The problem was, that in moving past the anger that had allowed him to vent his frustration with uncharacteristic openness, he had become increasingly quiet, almost brooding. Gibbs knew from experience that a quiet, withdrawn Tony was not a good sign.

So he was encouraged when Tony hesitantly started to ask a question.

'Uh... Gibbs?'

'Yeah?'

'That thing you said earlier... about never doing anything that you didn't think was for my own good.... Did you mean that?'

'Wouldn't have said it, if I didn't mean it, Tony.'

There was a moment of silence as Tony nibbled thoughtfully.

'Why?'

'Because I think you need someone to come down on you like a ton of bricks, to keep you from getting yourself killed, or doing something that would cost you your job.... Just like I needed someone to do that for me.' Tony's eyes widened in surprise, but Gibbs pressed on. 'I don't think I'd still be here if I didn't have people who cared enough to rein me in. I've been trying to provide the same guidance for you.'

'But... why do you care?'

As always, the younger man's insecurities tore at his heart.

'You're the closest thing I'll ever have to a son, Tony, you and Tim. You know that, don't you?'

Even with Ducky's admonitions still ringing in his ears, Gibbs knew he would never say as much to Tony if he weren't drinking, but right now, he didn't care.

'I thought... once... but... you've got Tim, so...'

Gibbs interrupted him, hoping that levity was the right approach to jarring him out of the funk he seemed to be heading towards.

'You know you sound like a toddler who's jealous of the new baby, right?'

Tony gaped at him.

'You don't think I care about _both_ of you, Tony?'

'I don't know why you'd want to. Tim's every parent's dream... he's smart, he's successful, he's a published author, for fuck's sake! I'm just...'

Gibbs cut him off, recognising the spiral into morose self-pity that was looming.

'And you're what I always imagined my son would be like. Dammit, Tony, I look at you, it's like looking in a mirror sometimes!'

Tony just stared at him for a long moment.

'But... then... why...'

Tony turned his face away, leaving the question unasked.

'Why what, Tony?' Gibbs prompted.

'If you still care... then... why did you...'

'Monumentally screw up?'

'Uh... yeah...'

Gibbs sighed. Tony was older than average to be learning that fathers are not infallible. Of course, he'd learned that lesson far too young. But he seemed to still think that loving, good parents were somehow, magically, perfect. He'd seen the reaction before, on cases, when Tony had been deeply disturbed by the mistakes of judgement people who clearly doted on their kids still managed to make.

'Tony, I never claimed to be perfect. I made mistakes with Kelly. Making mistakes with you doesn't mean I don't care. It means I'm human.'

He gave the younger man a few moments of silence to process the information.

'You made mistakes with Kelly?'

'Yeah.'

'Ummm....'

Gibbs smiled gently, recognising the curiosity behind the unasked question.

'I was over-protective, wouldn't let her go to a birthday party she had her heart set on. And I insisted that she was too young for summer camp, when her best friend was going. I didn't let her have a dog. I...'

'Ok! I get the picture!'

Another moment passed in silence.

'My father... he never cared when he got it wrong, when he beat me for something I hadn't done. One of the housekeepers had a thing for cognac... he noticed that his bottle wasn't as full as it should have been... I don't know why he thought a ten-year-old would even _want_ it...'

'I'm sorry, Tony. I'm sorry you didn't have the father you deserved.'

'Anyway, I figured out pretty quickly that he didn't give a damn what I did, as long as it didn't interfere in his life. And then he didn't care if I was really the cause of the interference or not... I was as good a person as any, to blame. That's all he wanted. Someone to blame. Someone he could make _pay_ for it. Someone he could hurt. So I learned to take it, without giving him the satisfaction of knowing that he hurt me.'

Gibbs felt like cold water had been poured down his spine, as he realised the reason why Tony hadn't cried out when he'd whipped him. In his mind, it had been just another unfair punishment at his father's hands. He scrubbed at his face with his hands and took a breath, trying to work out what to say. Before he could formulate the words, however, Tony had moved on. Or, rather, back.

'You really don't like Tim better?'

Gibbs sighed.

'Tony...'

'But... you use your old paddle on Tim, the one you had to make for your father...'

Gibbs struggled to keep up with the conversation. He could tell that Tony was genuinely upset, but the apparent reason for his distress was just too bizarre.

'You're jealous about what _paddle_ I use?'

'It's not about the _paddle_, it's about why you use it! It's the one that you were planning on using on your own child! Tim gets treated like he's good enough to be your flesh and blood, and I get...'

'You got to be treated the way I was by my father, and to do something that I would have had Kelly do when she was older. How is that not treating you like my son?'

'But...'

'Tim's left-handed, Tony. Asking him to use my tools to make _anything_ would be cruel and humiliating. And not having a paddle I can use with him would mean punishing him too severely for the things I'd use it for, or letting them go, and neither of those options seemed like a good idea.'

'Oh.'

'Yeah. "Oh." Jeez, Tony, you two really are like a couple of siblings, sometimes. First Tim is worried that I didn't have him make his own paddle because I couldn't be bothered to teach him how, now you think it means I like him better... what's next? Fighting over who gets to sit next to me in the truck?'

Watching Tony's face suddenly fall, Gibbs knew he'd said the wrong thing. But he couldn't for the life of him figure out _what_.

'What is it?' he asked gently.

'You... _hug_... Tim.'

Gibbs stared at him in shock, dumbfounded by the sense of betrayal that he heard behind the quiet words.

'How...'

'April Fool's Day. When you brought us all back to your place to be spanked. I _saw _you. You hugged Abby – you _always_ hug Abby, _everyone _hugs Abby. And you hugged Tim. I'm the only one you don't...'

'Tony, the one time I _did_ hug you, you made it pretty damn clear that it wasn't welcome!'

'Yeah, but...'

He broke off, chewing on his lip. He seemed conflicted about his own objection – not really comfortable with the idea of being hugged, but not happy about being the only one left out, either.

'I don't know if I want you to hug me, but I don't want you to hug Tim and not me... I guess I can't say I don't want you to hug either of us, huh?'

Gibbs shook his head, unable to help the grin. It was such a typical reaction for Tony and, he hoped, a good sign that 'normal' might, eventually, be possible, that they might be able to put today behind them.

'Uh, Boss?'

Gibbs felt a rush of ridiculous pleasure. Tony had been calling him 'Gibbs' all evening. Despite its apparently greater formality, hearing 'Boss' again further reassured him that the easy camaraderie he enjoyed with his second-in-command hadn't been permanently lost.

'Is there going to be a next time? I mean...'

Gibbs sighed. That was the $64,000 question. Should he... could he... continue dealing with Tony in his usual unconventional way, after this? Could Tony trust him enough to accept that kind of discipline from him? And could he trust himself enough to impose it?

'That's up to you, Tony. If you need things to be on the record for a while...'

'No, Boss. I... I don't want anything to... I think it would feel like you...'

'Hey, it's ok, Tony. I'm not giving up on you. But if you're not comfortable with me...'

'No, it's ok. I trust you, Boss.'

Gibbs nodded, smiling to himself about how much they managed to communicate even though neither one of them was very good at actually saying the words.

'But... uh... I don't suppose I could bank today as a credit? You know, against the next time I...'

Gibbs shook his head, still grinning.

'Nope. I'm sorry, Tony, but I don't think it's a good idea to have you out in the field, knowing you can screw around and use your 'get out of jail free' card. You're liable to get us _all_ killed, that way.'

'C'mon, Gibbs... I...'

'No, Tony.'

The younger man sighed dramatically.

'I had to ask.'

Gibbs grinned again, shaking his head fondly at the melodramatic antics. The two men drank in silence for a moment. Suddenly Tony blurted out, 'Ok, I've got to know... why the hell did Jardine set me up?!'

The sudden shift in the conversation surprised him a bit, but he decided not to comment on it. Instead, he answered the question.

'I called her on the way over here...'

'And?'

'She forgot to give the memory card to Abby, and didn't want to go back because she was afraid she'd be _hugged_ again.'

'Oh, for fuck's sake!'

'...and she decided to cover her own ass by leaving it on your desk and denying all knowledge of it...'

'Why me?' Tony asked, clearly put out and a little petulant.

'I think she figured that way the evidence wouldn't actually get lost, and she somehow decided that what you told her about me dealing with things off the record meant that I'd just send you down to the gym for a while...'

'For what? Hundreds of push-ups like in boot camp?'

'Something like that...'

There was a long pause while Tony took a drink and picked at the label on his bottle.

'So, what are you going to do to _her_?'

'Well, she's never working on my team again, that's for sure. And as soon as the Director gets back, I'm recommending that she be transferred to another office. The farther away, the better. Preferably someplace _dirty_...'

Tony laughed briefly, but quickly became serious again.

'Are you going to spank her?'

'No. That's for people I want to deal with off the record, give them a second chance without putting a black mark in their file. But she didn't give a damn about protecting her team mates this morning, so I'm not feeling real inclined to protect her. I _want_ this on her record.'

It was an answer he'd given in similar circumstances before, about various men under his command whom he'd chosen not to deal with 'informally'. But, as he was speaking, he realised that it wasn't the full story, not anymore. The dynamic with Tony, and Tim and Abby, too, had shifted; it was no longer simply an alternative means of dealing with his subordinates, but, rather, something much more personal that he shared with his 'kids'. He could see himself still spanking a Marine under his command, as he'd unhesitatingly decided to do during his recent stint as an instructor at Quantico. And, he supposed, he would spank Palmer again if necessary, although the idea of the ME's assistant doing anything to warrant it was vaguely ludicrous. But without any real personal connection or the bonds of the Corps between them, he couldn't imagine dealing with Jardine that way, even if she hadn't made it more unlikely by blaming Tony for her actions.

'Oh. I thought... I thought maybe... never mind.'

'You were hoping I'd let you watch?'

Tony's grin told him that he wasn't entirely opposed to that idea.

'No. I... uh... I was afraid you'd want me to... uh... do it.'

'Well, if you want...'

'No! That what... that's not really something I...'

He seemed agitated, and Gibbs spoke quickly to reassure him.

'That's fine, Tony. I wasn't going to suggest it.'

There was a bit of a pause before Gibbs continued.

'I take it that that isn't going to be part of your leadership style, when you get your own team?'

'I don't know. Maybe. I think it might be different if I'm leading a team where I've always been the leader, you know?'

Gibbs nodded, understanding.

'But I just don't see myself doing that, when it's someone I've worked with and not been in charge. Like when you were in Mexico... I mean, McGee never came close to screwing up enough for it to be an issue, but I don't think I could have spanked him. And I don't think he ever would have let me.'

Gibbs smiled, imagining the likely reaction from Tim if Tony tried to spank him. Tony was right; there was too much sibling rivalry between the two, for that to work out well.

'But, when I think about what you said, about it being a way to protect people from official consequences, and I wonder if I _should_ do it, for their sake. But it's just...'

He trailed off, clearly uncertain and questioning his own instincts.

'It's ok, Tony. You're right. It is different, when you're commanding people you aren't used to seeing as friends... as equals. But if you do end up taking over someday, before Tim's ready for his own team, I think you two are going to have to talk about this.'

Tony nodded thoughtfully, but his eyes were still conflicted.

'But you don't have to worry about that tonight, Tony. And I'll take care of Jardine.'

'Ok,' he agreed, nodding more convincingly this time.

They talked easily for a while longer. Finally, realising it was getting late, Gibbs called for a taxi to take him home, having left his car at the Navy Yard when he decided to bring beer along with the pizza. Then Tony walked him to the door, murmuring a quiet 'G'night, Boss.'

'Good night, son,' Gibbs replied. He hesitated for a moment, knowing that it would be a while before things were entirely back to normal between them, and not wanting to overstep the bounds of what Tony would be comfortable with yet. At the same time, his fatherly instincts were demanding that he do what he could to address Tony's insecurities. Instinct finally winning out over logic, he pulled the younger man into his arms.


End file.
